


The First and the Last

by armitageadoration



Category: Political RPF - Russian 20th c., Political RPF - Russian 21st c., Politics - Fandom, Russia - Fandom, Vladimir Putin - Fandom, ruspol - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armitageadoration/pseuds/armitageadoration
Summary: (this is on temporary hiatus while I rewrite No Strings Attatched)It was Christmas Day in Russia (7 January).Exactly one year ago today Aiah Putina gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. It should have been a day of celebration. It should have been a day to spend with family and friends.Instead, in the large residence of the President of the Russian Federation, there is only silence.Vladimir Putin sits alone in a room drinking icy cold vodka. The burn at the back of his throat soothes the pain in his mind.His infidelities started in Dresden but they wouldn’t end there.(This is the prequel to No Strings Attached. it will make more sense if you read that first.)





	The First and the Last

_Christmas Day in Russia (7 January)_

Vladimir Putin took a long swallow of his drink. The icy cold vodka burned the back of his throat. At least it was something different than the misery he felt. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he looked at the pictures. His son. His happy smiling son. Aiah sent the pictures early this morning. Vadim Vladimirovich Putin was a beautiful child.

He was fair skinned with rosy cheeks and a wild crop of dark curly hair. Having seen pictures of Aiah as a child, he knew that Vadim resembled his mother greatly. The video was taken very early. A glace told him the video had been received at 530am London time. All these years later and he still knew what time it was in London without thinking about it. 

Little Vadya was blowing kisses at the camera. Someone said something Vladimir thought. Vadya turned like he was responding to the sound of a voice. He raised the volume on his phone.

“Can you say hi to Papa Vadya?” Aiah was in the background “Tell Papa ‘S rozhdyestvom Hristovym.’”

Nastasia, Clarice, and Tobias’ voices were heard in the background.

“Come see Deda, Vadya.” Tobias spoke in Russian.

That small hand held on to his mother’s fingers. Aiah wasn’t in the video, just her hands were. It was painful to see that delicate hand without the wedding rings. When Tobias picked up Vadya, the video ended. 

Vladimir had given her two sets of rings. One was a plain gold band for her left hand. When they traveled, it was often to countries that wore wedding rings on the left. On the right hand was her wedding and engagement rings. There would be no mistaking that she was spoken for. Not that there should have been any mistake.

Aiah was famous on her own merits. When their affair became known to the world, there wasn’t the typical misogynistic cries of things like gold digger. It had been somewhat comical that instead of her having to measure up to him, Vladimir had to measure up to her.

He missed her. His beautiful Aiah left him just like she said she would if he cheated. What the fuck had he been thinking? Elizaveta was nothing compared to his wife. She was just available. If only he had said something!

As a boy he dreamed of being somebody. He dreamed of having a home and a family. Now he had everything he dreamed of. Fame, power, money and more. Not only did his mere presence make people afraid, he could have damn near any woman he wanted and did.

It wasn’t until that wild little minx came into his that he discovered what love truly was.

How the fuck had he missed so much? Vladimir didn’t understand how trust, openness, and vulnerability meant when it came to love. He didn’t realized that those very things were needed to love the way he dreamed of.

It was in the first year of their relationship when he tired her to the bed. Legs were spread wide with a strap around each ankle. The straps were anchored to the bottom posts of the footboard. Her wrists were tied together and that strap was pulled up and anchored to the headboard.

The way her body was held in place was thrilling and erotic. Her back curved in a way that raised her arse.

“Do you trust me Aiah?”

“Yes.”

“Why kitten?”

Her voice was soft. There was something smoky about it. “You have never given me a reason not to trust you.”

“There is more. Tell me.”

“There are many times you could have lied to me but you didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I have quite a number of contacts that you are most likely not aware of.”

“If I asked you who they are, would you tell me?”

“Absolutely.”

Vladimir never asked. 

He didn’t realize that just like he had to trust her, Aiah had to trust him.

When he knelt between her spread legs he kissed a trail down her spine. All that he would allow to touch her was his lips. The way her body shifted beneath him was surprising. He could feel the power she possessed. It wasn’t necessarily physical.

He laid over her back, letting Aiah feel his weight pinning her to the bed. “What are you thinking?”

“Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting them not to.”

It was her way of telling him how she felt. She loved him. She trusted him. And he was too full of himself to realize that was the greatest compliment he had ever been given. Her love was unconditional. Even now, Vladimir was positive she still loved him.

Now, Aiah must hate him as well. Love and hate weren’t mutually exclusive. He took another swallow of the vodka. To be fair, he hated himself for what he had done.

Aiah didn’t sleep with people. It was one of her strange quirks that he never found any rhyme or reason to. She wouldn’t stay over with someone nor would she allow someone to stay over. He never found out why that was. The first time she stayed the night with him was magnificent. She woke first and slid out of bed.

Vladimir remembered watching her walk away from him. She was a bronzed goddess. Her arse was lily white while the rest of her skin was a warm gold. That was when he took such a liking to tan lines. The way those wild curls spilled down her back, she was the sexiest woman he had ever known. He smirked with the knowledge that this little nymphet was his.

Except, she wasn’t. No strings attached was what they agreed upon. They came together for a good time and nothing more. It wasn’t too long after that he had been photographed kissing Alina in a restaurant. The photograph never surfaced but the damage was done. It was true. He did kiss her.

Aiah never said anything about it and he was certain she knew. No strings attached meant that he didn’t need to explain. And he didn’t. For six months they had constant contact and then it got less and less. Finally there was a period where they didn’t speak at all for 6 weeks.

Finding out that Aiah was in Moscow and didn’t tell him was both heartbreaking and infuriating. He felt betrayed. And until this very day Vladimir never took into account how she felt. That was the story of their 11 year affair. He had expectations of her but she was not permitted the same of him.

Vladimir realized if he had found her with another man, the man would be dead. He would have done it himself. Aiah never took it out on Elizaveta. That’s because Elizaveta didn’t make any promises to her. He was the one that did.

There was nothing but silence. The inhabitants of the grand residence were gone. He was the only one left. Everyone had left him. His wives, his children, everyone. Vladimir realized that he deserved what he had gotten.

Aiah wasn’t the first long term affair. No, the first was before his kitten was even born. Vladimir loved that girl but was not in love with her. Not that it made a difference to his wife. 

He remembered the first time he saw that very first one. 

** _9 January 1985 Dresden Germany_ **

“Silke! Silke! Wait up! I wish to ask you something!” Heinrich hollered after her.

“I can’t! Rehearsals were late getting out, if I don’t get home and be ready before dinner is served I will be in trouble.” She yelled while running as fast as possible

Silke Schrader ran for the block of homes where she was staying with her father. Most everyone living there were in some form part of either the Stasi or the KGB. Her father, Ernst Schrader, was the head of the Dresden Stasi office.

Ernst Schrader was known for two things, his tyrannical nature and cold demeanor. It was true in a sense. Heading the office of the Stasi was only done well without emotion and with having as much control as possible.

However, his four children didn’t think of him as such. While Ernst was a very strict father, he also loved and doted on his children. He expected to be obeyed and for his children to do their very best in whatever they decided to do. While the punishments used varied from child to child, their punishments came with absolute forgiveness.

The grandson of a long dead Nazi, Ernst worked to do the best he could for his country. He knew very little of his family during the two World Wars. He intended to keep it that way. Such knowledge was useless. Still, good Aryan stock was appreciated by many. While it disgusted him, Ernst knew that it had been helpful over the years.

Karl, Heinz, and Reinhardt were very much like their father. They were all in various stages of their university learnings. Like their father, they were all tall, blond and thick bodied. Their physiques honed from a lifetime of playing sports.

Silke, on the other hand, looked very much like her mother Monika. She was small with sparkling dove grey eyes. Long waving black hair was her crowning glory, even if it was normally put up. There was something mischievous about her but in the playful sort of way.

When Monika Schrader died from a high fever several years prior, Ernst did not seek out another woman to marry. He lost the desire for companionship with the loss of his beloved Monika. Rumors stretched across Europe why he didn’t remarry and none of them were true.

With the boys all at different universities, it was just Ernst and his daughter. At 17 she was the youngest of his children. When her mother passed Ernst decided to send Silke to the Bolshoi Ballet Academy. Silke had been begging for two years by then. He had hoped it would help his young daughter to get away from where her mother died.

Upon leaving, it was agreed that she would serve as the principal dancer in Dresden for a term of one season. Upon fulfilling the obligation, she would go to Berlin. After her 25th birthday Silke would be permitted to go anywhere in the world she wished.

Knowing she would be moving to Berlin very soon, Ernst kept a tight rein on her. He was not looking forward to being alone in the apartment. Due to their schedules, their needs were taken care of through an arrangement with a couple of servants that ran their small but opulent household.

“Miss! You dropped something!”

She looked back and saw a man holding on to one of her notebooks. Sheepishly, she came down the steps.

“Thank you.” The nearly lost item was shoved back into her bag. “I am in your debt Sir.”

“Well in that case….” The man smiled. “Could you tell me how to get to this address?”

Silke looked at the writing. “You are wanting 111 Raderberger Street? You must be looking for Herr Schrader.”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course. Follow me. It confuses people how to get to him because the layout is odd.” Up the steps and around to the side, the private apartment of Ernst Schrader was larger than all the others. Instead of rapping on the door, she asked the stranger his name.

“Vladimir. Uh Vladimir Putin. Herr Schrader is expecting me.”

With a key, Silke let them both in. “I’m Silke. Herr Schrader is my father.” She showed him into the sitting room before going to find either her father or one of the servants.

After having cleaned up and dressed for dinner, Silke realized she had ten minutes before she was expected. Checking her appearance once again, she walked downstairs to the sitting room. The stranger was sitting with her father, talking quietly.

“Father? Are you or our guest in need of anything?”

“No Silke. Have you met our guest?”

“Just briefly.” She smiled warmly.

“Herr Putin will be living next door to us.”

“I hope you enjoy your stay Sir.” She tipped her head with a smile.

“Thank you Fraulein.”

“Father, Herr Putin if you two will excuse me please? I shall go make sure everything is ready.”

Vladimir watched her leave. She was a tiny thing. If she was over five feet tall he would be surprised. It was her eyes surprised him the most. They were an arresting dove grey color. They were truly grey, with no hint of blue. Her dark hair was pulled up and back in a rather severe style that seemed to be at odds with her sweet demeanor. 

The dinner was quiet with just the two men speaking. Vladimir noticed that their young dining companion only spoke when spoken to.

“Are you still in school Miss Schrader?”

“No. I graduated last year.”

“What is it that you do now?”

She hesitated.

“Tell him Silke. She hates talking about herself.” Ernst chuckled as his daughter’s reddened cheeks.

“Yes Father. I am the principal ballerina for the Dresden Ballet Company this year. When the next season starts I will be in Berlin. Not the principal but hopefully within a few years.”

“You have no one with you correct?” Ernst asked of the younger man. It was his way of asking if a wife was with him yet.

“Correct.”

“Come with me this weekend. Dresden isn’t Berlin but people you should know will be at the ballet. Silke will be in La Sylphide.” 

“As the Sylph?”

Silke laughed merrily. “But of course! I tried to convince the director to permit me to play James but he said I was too short.”

“My apologies sweetheart, I didn’t notice the time. You need your sleep if you are going to be rehearsing tomorrow.”

“Thank you Sir. Herr Putin, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

Vladimir had seen ballets before. It wasn’t anything unusual in Leningrad. This one he took distinct pleasure in after having met Silke. She danced beautifully. Herr Schrader was correct, there were a good number of people there that he needed to meet.

Silke and Vladimir ran into each other while the season was wrapping up. Often times he was a dinner guest at her father’s table. Ernst and the young Russian got along quite well.

** _1 year later, Berlin_ **

The day was cold and snowy but still Silke Schrader stood outside the café. Between the heat of the café and still hot from rehearsals, the outdoors felt refreshing. It was just by luck that she noticed a man passing by.

“Herr Putin!” She called out to the man.

He turned abruptly at the sound of his name. The cold look in his eyes softened when he saw who it was. The little Sylph was smartly dressed. The diminutive figure of Silke Schrader looked even smaller out in the open.

“How are you Miss Schrader?”

“Good. Just finished rehearsals. How are you doing? Did you finally settle in?”

“Yes, tha-“ He was cut short by a rock hitting him at the hairline.

She saw who the culprits were. Three of the boys that had come from Moscow with their parents. The boys hadn’t seen her there. Picking up the rock she flung it at the oldest of the three, hitting him square in the forehead. The boy dropped to the ground while the other two ran off.

Silke checked Putin to make sure he was not badly injured. “Herr Putin, you are bleeding. Please, come with me. My flat is around the corner.”

For whatever reason, Vladimir followed the younger woman.

The apartment was small but very neat and tidy. Silke put a kettle on for tea and went to fetch the first aid kit.

After sealing the cut with medical glue she fashioned an icepack for him. “There. You will have a goose egg for a few days. The boys that did that won’t get away with it, I assure you.”

“Thank you. You know them?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Their parents are dancers. I feel sorry for the children in a way. They do things like that because they have no one to actually pay attention to them.” The kettle began to whistle. “How do you take your tea?”

“Milk and sugar please.”

She brought out a small tray with everything needed to serve the tea and a few biscuits as well. His tea was fixed first and served to him before Silke served herself.

Taking a sip, Vladimir’s brow creased in surprise. “Where did you find this tea? It reminds me of home.”

“Good. You like the smorodina. Not everyone likes it here, I’ve found. The tea comes from Leningrad.”

Hearing smorodina Vladimir’s eyes widened with pleasure. “No wonder I recognized it. I’m from Leningrad.”

“Really? Do you miss it? I do.”

“You’ve been to Leningrad?”

“I lived in Moscow for 8 years while I studied at the Bolshoi. But I took the train up to Leningrad as often as I could.”

“You speak Russian?”

Silke switched to Russian. “Yes, I do. One must know Russian to understand ballet.”

He laughed warmly. Not a man ruled by emotion, he stilled enjoyed hearing his native tongue spoken. It soothed him greatly. “I see your father often. He worries about you.”

“He has always worried about me. It is sweet but unnecessary. I am far tougher than my brothers. The eldest is Karl. He tried to warm up with me once and couldn’t move for three days.” She fixed her guest another cup.

“How does Leningrad compare to Berlin?”

“I’m sure that it is different for everyone but Berlin feels dry comparably. Leningrad is a city of romance. You feel every nuance around you. It was easy to dance there because it touched your soul. I have seen the pictures of Berlin before the war. It looked beautiful, except for those foul swastikas everywhere. The war destroyed so much that made Berlin vibrant or so I have been told.”

She was about to say something else when her phone rang. Excusing herself, she took the call. It was the stage director. Evening rehearsal was cancelled due to the storm coming in early. The trains were stopping already.

“Yes Herr Weiss, I will stay in. I won’t go trying to have an adventure, I promise.” She laughed softly at something said. “Oh, Herr Weiss? The Volkov children are causing mischief again. I was speaking with a friend of my father’s and they hit him with a rock. He was bleeding!” Another pause. “Thank you. Hopefully, we shall have rehearsals tomorrow evening.” She hung up.

“You have learned well Miss Schrader. I am impressed.”

“Instead of saying you are a friend of mine I said a friend of my father?” She smiled. “I’m not just another ballerina Herr Putin.”

Silke switched the small television on. Without a word she and her guest watched as virtually the entire city was closing down. Much of the city was already in blizzard like conditions.

He cursed. “I must go. I need to either return to Dresden or get a hotel room.”

“Herr Putin, don’t be ridiculous. There is no way to return to Dresden now and hotel rooms will be few and far between. This storm wasn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow. I have an extra bedroom and I am sure I have a couple of items that belong to my brother Heinz. That way you can get more comfortable.”

“Fraulein, I cannot. It would not be proper.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “If you wish for me to call my father and allow him to give you his blessing, I shall. He would be far more upset with me if I let you out to fend for yourself. If you wish to call your wife, you are more than welcome to as well. I swear I will not attack you in the middle of the night.”

The mention of his wife made him take a step back mentally. “Your father told you I was married?”

“Of course not. He doesn’t speak of work around me.”

“How did you know I was married then?”

“You just confirmed it. Herr Putin, if I remember correctly you are a colonel. Men who aren’t married don’t rise through the ranks that quickly. You are only 30-35 would be my best guess. That is young.”

“You are calling me young?” He wanted to laugh at the 18 year old girl. 

“I suppose it does sound a bit silly but yes! I need to fix us something for dinner, will you be kind enough to sit in the kitchen with me Herr Putin?”

“Yes, lead the way fraulein.”

The kitchen was large and contained a breakfast nook of sorts at one end. Silke made sure that her guest was comfortable before she began to work.

“My apologies Herr Putin. I do not drink alcohol so I don’t have any to offer you.”

“My name is Vladimir. Will you use it please?”

“As you desire Vladimir, as long as you use mine. Do you have a shortened form that you prefer?”

“No, it is what you prefer Silke. Do you have a shortened form?”

“No, I don’t Vovka. Do you have anything you prefer for dinner? I have had borscht cooking in the crockpot all day and sauerbraten with every vegetable known to Germany.”

“You cook all of that for you?”

“Yes. I freeze the leftovers so I don’t have to worry about cooking every evening. There are days when eating is as much of a chore as cooking.”

“They both sound good.”

After serving him first, they both tucked into their food. The conversation following was warm and friendly but before long it was 2200 hours. Silke laid out something for him to sleep in and then showed Vladimir to his room. She left him with orders to wake her if he needed anything.

It was perhaps two o’clock in the morning when she was woken out of a dead sleep. The room was freezing! Yawning, the light was switched on and nothing. They were without power. She started a fire in the sitting room fireplace and put a large kettle of water over it to keep the air from being too dry.

Silke went through the same process for the fireplace in her bedroom. Cursing softly, a piece of firewood left a splinter in the heel of her hand.

A barefooted Vladimir wandered out into the hall. “What’s going on?”

“We lost power so I was getting the fireplaces going. I’m going to take the sofa. Go into my room, you will stay warm there.”

“No. I am not kicking you out of your own bedroom.”

“Please Vovka. I have a few things to do. It will be quiet back there. I swear there is nothing back there that would bite you.” There was a hint of impish good humor in her grey eyes. 

“No.”

“Fine, don’t take up the whole sofa then. We will both be out there after I get this sliver of wood out from my hand.”

“Let me see.” He took her hand and looked. “Do you have a shot glass?”

“Yes, why?”

“I’ll need it.” He went back into the guest room and rummaged around his belongings. He always carried a lighter, even though he didn’t smoke.

Tilting the glass to the side he let the flame of the lighter heat it up and popped the glass down onto Silke’s hand. The sliver of wood wiggled and then pulled free with the suction created.

“There. All gone.”

“That is brilliant Vovka! Where did you learn that?”

“I spent a summer chopping wood at university.”

“You do have quite a number of layers to you.” Silke smiled gently. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes. Please.”

Returning with a tray of pastries and the makings for tea, she sat everything down on the table.

“How does it look out there?”

Vladimir was staring out the window. “White. Very white.”

“Your tea kind Sir.” She offered him the cup.

He went to take the cup and was startled by her appearance. Silke wore leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with the Bolshoi logo on it. With her face was scrubbed clean of makeup and her hair down she looked like the most innocent of creatures.

Taking the cup and saucer with shaking hands, he set them down. One step forward was all it took for him to draw the little ballerina into his arms. His lips touched hers just a second later.


End file.
